Reflections on Rembrandt, Pt. 1

When preaching some narrative passages of Scripture, one of things I often try to do is "find myself in the story"--and help my listeners to "find themselves in the story".  In other words, I look for the character or characters whose conflicts, challenges, crises, etc. in some way parallel my own (and, presumambly, my listeners').  It is not necessarily always the proper (or, at least, the primary) way to interpret and apply a Biblical narrative, but it is often a valuable connection point for relating the story to our lives.

If there is one person who knows a little something about finding himself in a Biblical narrative, its Rembrandt van Rijn.  If you are familiar with Rembrandt's work, you may remember that when he painted a scene from a Biblical narrative, he often painted himself in as a bystander or observer of the scene.

It is an unfortunate tendency of current Christian painters to focus only on the inspirational.  There is an uplifting, sentimental beauty in a Thomas Kincaid painting, with his themes of the joy of the familiar and light overpowering the darkness.  But a Kincaid does not approach the gravity and depth of emotion of a Rembrandt scene.  When I look at a Rembrandt, I am truly drawn in to a story from the Bible in ways I never dreamed.

I invite you to observe a few Rembrandt paintings with me, and allow me to share a few of my own personal reflections on the paintings and the stories that inspired them.

Tonight, I'd like to consider "The Prophet Jeremiah Laments Over the Destruction of Jerusalem". 



There are many different paintings by Rembrandt that could be said to depict a "dark night of the soul", but this one has always carried a very special poignancy for me.  The despondency on the old prophet's face here is heartwrenching.  Jeremiah, as you know, had prophesied God's judgement and called for repentence for decades, meeting with the stubborness and hard-heartedness of his countrymen.  The obscure figure on the far left at the top of the stairs holding his eyes is likely King Zedekiah, who was blinded by the invading Babylonians, and now stands as a symbol of the spiritual blindness of the people of Judah.  Now, Jermiah must sit and watch as his countrymen are destroyed.  He is frustrated and heartbroken.   

I said that Jeremiah's heartbreak is especially poignant for me, probably because, in a very small way, I've tasted the heartbreak of seeing kids under my ministry care fall away and suffer badly.  I, too, have curled up by myself in tears, watching powerlessly as teens I have loved, taught, and tried to nurture ruin their lives and embrace destruction.  I think most of us have experience like that--seeing those whom we love stubbornly refuse to listen to wisdom, and all we can do is watch with tears in our eyes while they go down in flames.

I wonder if Jeremiah ever blamed himself.  "If only I'd preached with more passion, or chosen my words better.  Maybe if I had adopted a different approach, things would have turned out very differently."  I know that I've thought all of those things.  But that's certainly not how we view Jeremiah.  We look back on him as an exemplary servant of God who stood firm against his rebellious culture, and strongly preached repentance and God's mercy.  Could it be that sometimes we preach the Word exactly as we should, love people with all our hearts, and still it doesn't turn out the way we're hoping.  I believe so; if we judged solely on results, we'd have to conclude that Jeremiah is the worst minister of all time and that Jonah is the greatest.

That flies in the face of many of the things I like to believe as a minister of the Gospel.  I operate with the mindset: "If I were minister I ought to be, nobody would ever fall away on my watch, and everyone within the sphere of my ministry will grow into a strong disciple of Christ."  But that's not the way it goes.  I'm called to love people with everything I've got, and to preach the word with clarity and authority, as Jeremiah did.  The results I leave in His hand.

When I think about my experience at Denver Seminary, I observe that a large part of the training I'm recieving seems to be geared towards staving off ministry burnout, and ministry-related depression and breakdown.  I appreciate the need for adequately caring for oneself spiritually in order to lead the Church effectively, but all to often the implication seems to be that if we are ministering effectively and taking proper care of ourselves, we'll never suffer devestating heartbreak in ministry.  I don't think that stacks up with the story of Jeremiah.  All I have to do is look at the face of the man in the picture and I know that it is false.  When we love people, we are emotionally tied to them, but we can't control them.  That's why love is dangerous.  Love of all kinds is a risk to emotional health. 

The section of the Book of Jeremiah that concerns Judah ends with hope: a declaration by God that he has a plan for Judah to give them a future, and a New Covenant by which He will redeem His people to Himself.  It is a message of grace and restoration to all who will embrace it.  Likewise, even to those we see fall away, there's always hope.  By God's grace, we will continue to bring a message of restoration to them.  But when I look into the face of Rembrandt's Jeremiah, it is a sobering reminder that of the darkness we travel through between here and and the final restoration of God's people to Himself.

Gifts and Calling

I return once more...let's get right to it:

I can appreciate the fact that so many people in the church painstakingly seek out the the counsel of wise advisors, their own hearts, and, if all else fails, internet surveys in an effort to discover their spiritual gifts.  It is a desirable and noble thing to come to an understanding of the skills and abilities the Holy Spirit has endowed one with.  And it is beautiful (but rare) to see a church full of people ministering to one another and building each other up according to their giftedness.

In my own life, however, I have begun to seriously ponder whether or not "What are my spiritual gifts" is necessarily the right question when trying to determine how I should minister in a given context.  I wonder if perhaps a more appropriate question to ask is, "What is it that needs to be done--what can I do to build these people up and strengthen the church."  It strikes me from Scripture that God's calling upon people's lives does not necessarily correlate with their apparent gifts.  Does Exodus 3 Moses strike anybody as someone with the gifts of faith and leadership to lead Israel out of Egypt?  Does Gideon talk much like a general?  Actually, it strikes me more that God is often pleased to show His glory by calling people to perform extraordinary tasks that seem to precisely lay outside the range of their apparent giftings.  I also think of a character like Frodo--if asked, I doubt he would have thought of himself as gifted at performing the necessary task of carrying the source and symbol of evil through miles of mountainous wasteland and hordes of enemies and monsters. 

This isn't to suggest that there is no correlation between gifting and calling--on the contrary, I do think the two are connected.  But I think the relationship is best considered in terms of "God gifts me to fulfill His calling on my life"--and often we don't discover those gifts within us until we are actively living out His calling.

Don't misunderstand.  If it is clear that the Spirit has gifted you in a certain way, do it with all your heart.  It's the lesson of Spider-Man--with great power comes great responsibility.  But don't think that because a "Spiritual Gifts Test" showed your primary gifts to be exhortation and giving, you are necessarily now eternally excused from the responsibility of taking assertive leadership when there's a gaping void, or signing up to work in the nursery for a Sunday.  Pouring out one's life for the glory of God may well lead to unexpected challenges, unexpected opportunities--even the unexpected discovery of gifts within yourself.

Observations on Romans 12:10

Kingdom Building

(Author's Note: Henceforth, I'm posting the same stuff here and on my blog at myspace.com/czhorse .  In this particular case, I think I may have posted this material here before, or something very similar, so my apologies of this is repeat for the xanga folks)

There is a teaching of Christ that I've misunderstood most of my life.  After Simon makes his confession Jesus' Messiahship, Jesus gives him the name "Peter" (which, as most of you know, means "rock"), and declares that "on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it." 

As I've always heard this passage taught, what Christ is saying is that the kingdom of darkness will constantly be attacking the Church, but by God's grace and providence the Church will not be overcome.  But quick, for $1, is a gate an offensive or defensive structure.  Yep...defensive.  In fact, city gates held great symbolic importance for cities to the Roman Empire.  When the Roman army would overtake a city they were beseiging, they would dismantle the gates of the city and display them prominently in the entryway to show that the city was overthrown.

This, to me, throws Christ's declaration into a totally new and drastically different light.  We're no longer discussing the attacks of the kingdom of darkness, but the attacks on the kingdom of darkness.  Implication: we as the Church are not playing defense.  We're on the attack. 

This changes, if not necessarily the way I do ministry, certainly the way I view ministry.  Essentially, what we are called to do is participate in the spreading of the Kingdom of God.  In my mind there are two places where we build the Kingdom of God: first, within our own lives, and secondly, everywhere else.  By Kingdom of God, by the way, I refer simply to the reign and rule of Jesus Christ.  Building the Kingdom of God within our lives is simply a matter of bringing oneself more and more into submission to Christ's Lordship.  It is in this that I find the writings of Bonhoeffer to be so invaluable.

The second part of building the Kingdom of God is far more complex, and encompasses every form of ministry and God-ordained pursuit.  It is preaching the Gospel to thousands, translating Galatians into Agarabi, composing a piece of music, and encouraging a brother.  It is sharing the Gospel with a co-worker, mentoring a middle-schooler, visiting a cancer patient, and volunteering at a shelter for unwed mothers--anything that proclaims and spreads the Kingship of Jesus Christ.

I have lived most of my life defensively, training myself to defend the Gospel, rather than contend for the faith, as Jude calls us.  Beginning now, as I face a summer rife with opportunity, I want to do these two things: build the Kingdom of God inside myself, and build the Kingdom of God outside of myself. 

We're building the Kingdom.  We serve the one true King.  We're taking down the kingdom of darkness and setting the captives free.  I think that's something I can get excited about.

Building A Better Jeff Miller

To state the obvious, I'm taking a little break from posing these days.  I assure you, you've missed nothing important.  The semester ended, I do lots of janitorial work, read lots of Bonhoeffer...you know, the usual. 

I've always struggled with being a person who talks a lot and does little.  Every so often we all hit a period when we need to take some time and reassess our life, priorities, direction, attitudes, and actions, hold them up against what we can best discern to be God's will for our lives, and prayerfully try to take decisive action.  This is one of those periods. 

Although I'm not posting, please don't forsake praying for me!  Thanks, as always, for your love and support.  Wherever you go this summer, whatever you do, may God's protection, providence, and every blessing go with you!